Z Penelope's Birthday Wish Complete
by Fanatical Writer
Summary: There was only one birthday wish that Penelope Garcia had. Would a handsome stranger inside of a crowded bar be able to give it to her? Written for klcm's birthday!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story was written for klcm's birthday! It's going to be two parts, and I hope you all like it! Happy belated birthday, klcm! ~ Angie**

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><p>They didn't know how she did it, couldn't exactly capture that same essence themselves, but it was common knowledge among her friends that she had 'it.' Whatever <em>it<em> was.

Penelope Garcia was an enigma, for sure. She wasn't the thinnest of the bunch; and by America's standards, she wasn't even the prettiest. But when she walked out onto the dance floor and started moving, all eyes inevitably landed on her. She exuded confidence…a raw sexuality that was extraordinarily uncommon. It would have been easy to hate her if she wasn't so damn nice. But she had a way of making everyone around her feel special. And today was _her_ day to feel special. Penelope was turning 35 years old, and her friends were by her side to make sure she had fun doing it.

Laughter erupted around her as her penis shaped birthday cake was brought to the table in the small, intimate restaurant downtown that not many folks knew about. Her cheeks heated immediately as the waitress—who couldn't have been more than eighteen years old—placed the cake in front of her. The poor girls cheeks were as crimson as Penelope knew her own were. She looked at her friend Taylor, and he was grinning shamelessly. "I'm guessing this was all _you,_" she said knowingly as the waitress disappeared.

His grinned widened. "Hot cock is _never_ a bad idea," he reminded her, his face illuminated by the candles on the cake as he leaned in to impart that information.

Penelope cleared her throat as her girlfriends erupted into laughter. "Well, then. Shall I blow the…cock out?"

"Darlin'," Taylor said. "You could probably have left the 'out' off that sentence and had yourself one _very_ pleased birthday cake."

Penelope rolled her eyes as she took a deep breath.

"Don't forget to make a wish!" her friend Ashley reminded her.

Penelope exhaled, and then pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. A slow grin spread across her face as she took in another big gulp of air, and then began to blow.

"What did you wish for?" Taylor asked animatedly, but Penelope shook her head.

"No," she said firmly. "If I tell you, it won't come true."

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><p>They left the restaurant in a taxi and stopped at Penelope's apartment to drop off her birthday presents—which included a ridiculously large dildo from Taylor—so they could go out for a night on the town. They were ribbing her about her birthday wish, wanting to know if it had been to get laid.<p>

But she wouldn't budge; they didn't need to know her birthday wish. And the truth was…she didn't need to get laid. She had an entire drawer dedicated to _that_ craving. Besides, she'd tried one night stands, and they never worked out for her. The guy always pushed for her number afterwards. What she wanted was something her nightstand drawer_ couldn't_ take care of.

She wanted to be kissed-and not just any kiss. But an honest-to-goodness, toe curling, earth shattering, _hot_ kiss. She hadn't had one of _those_ in a long time.

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><p>In true Penelope form, she'd taken the dance floor the moment they'd arrived…and within five minutes, she was swarmed by men wanting to ply her with drinks. But for some reason, it was never the ones surrounding her who garnered her attention.<p>

Six songs later, she was so sweating so much that her turquoise shirt was practically sticking to her. She quickly excused herself to get a drink of water. She'd learned the only way to do it was quickly, otherwise men were falling all over themselves to get her a drink. She had a hard time understanding them, really. Would they _ever_ figure out that the one who _didn't_ leave to get her a drink would be the one left alone with her? If precedent was anything to go on, the answer to that was a resounding no.

She lifted her hair up off the back of her neck with one hand and used her other to fan it as she waited for the waitress to come her way.

"You have pit stains," Ashley informed her, suddenly appearing by her side.

Penelope instantly dropped her arms and then did a quick check. She slapped her friend on the arm. "I do _not_," she said, returning to her former position in order to cool herself off.

Ashley giggled. "Having fun?" she asked.

"Sure," Penelope answered with too much enthusiasm.

"Liar," Ashley said knowingly.

"Don't tell Taylor," Penelope begged. "He'll be devastated."

"Yeah, _if_ he ever makes it off the dance floor," Ashley said dryly.

Penelope followed her friends gaze and laughed. Taylor was surrounded by nearly as many men as she'd been a few minutes ago. "True."

"See you in a bit?" Ashley asked as she took her drink from the bartender.

Penelope nodded as she placed her order. "Water, please." She watched as Ashley made her way back to the table with the rest of their friends minus Taylor.

"I see you finally broke away from your entourage," came an amused voice beside her.

Penelope turned her head to the side and froze as her eyes drank in the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. She giggled nervously as she reminded herself to speak. "Yep." His skin was mocha colored, his eyes a deep brown. It was obvious that he was ripped beneath his clothes. His biceps were straining against the fabric of his t-shirt, and she'd bet money that he wasn't even flexing.

"Derek," he introduced himself, tilting his head to the side.

She cleared her throat. "Penelope," she returned.

"Penelope," he said in a low, sexy drawl, as if trying out her name.

"Here ya go," the bartender said, placing a bottle of water in front of her.

"Thanks," she said with a grin. She turned back to Derek and smiled. "Well, I—"

"I have a booth in the back," he interrupted.

"I—" She'd been about to decline his offer, but then her eyes dropped to his lips. With a quick shake of her head, she lifted her gaze to his knowing one and could feel herself blushing furiously. One look and she knew…the man knew how to kiss. Even better, he _knew _he knew how to kiss. So she crossed her fingers and smiled softly at him. "Lead the way."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here is the second (and last) part of the story written for klcm's birthday! Happy belated! Thank you all for the reviews for last chapter!**

**Enjoy! ~ Angie**

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><p>Placing a hand on the small of her back, Derek led Penelope to a secluded booth near the rear of the club. The space was dimly lit and sparsely occupied. Clearly the patrons were more interested in the dance floor and the bar than sitting. "Here," he told her, and she took a seat on one side of the table while he sat down on the other.<p>

Even from where he'd been sitting in the back, he'd noticed her the instant she'd walked in—and wasn't pleased to realize that so had almost every other male in this place. She was hard to miss.

She was wearing a white tiered skirt made from a gauzy material. It stopped mid thigh, revealing her bare legs. And Derek Morgan loved legs—especially legs that didn't look like sticks. Her turquoise shirt had a v-neck, barely concealing his second most favorite body part. He studied her as she nervously looked around—interesting trait, he thought, for a woman who had men flock to her. "So, did you come alone?" she asked curiously.

He didn't speak her for a moment, just long enough to knock her off her game, he hoped—whatever that game might be. "I rarely come alone," he answered in a low drawl.

He watched a slow grin and a charming blush simultaneously make their way across her face. "OK, then."

"What about you?" he asked. "Your friend at the bar?"

"Yes," she answered, then cleared her throat. "But unfortunately I can't say the same."

He tilted his head to the side questioningly.

"I often…come alone," she admitted, lifting her water bottle to take a sip; her eyes never left his.

"I could help you with that problem," he said boldly.

Throaty laughter made its way up her throat as she grinned. "I didn't _say_ it was a problem," she informed him.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he returned her grin. "Touché."

"Whoo!"

Derek startled, so lost in his own little world with her that he'd practically forgotten they were in a public place.

"What are you doing way in the back, Birthday Girl?" a flamboyantly dressed man practically screeched as he settled himself into the booth beside Penelope. He turned his gaze on Derek, giving him a slow perusal. A satisfied grin made its way across the man's face. "Oh, I _see_," he said pointedly.

Derek shifted uncomfortably under the man's stare and glared back at him challengingly. Penelope bit her lower lip, trying to hold back a giggle.

The man cleared his throat. "I…_see_…that I am interrupting something," he continued. He kissed Penelope on the cheek. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said, and then leaned closer to whisper something in her ear. And just as quickly as he'd arrived, he disappeared.

Penelope cleared her throat. "Taylor," she said as if the single word explained everything.

It was obvious by his nod that he neither understood, nor cared. "So…birthday girl," he commented. "Twenty nine?"

She grinned back—he was quickly winning her over. Though _that_ had started the second he'd looked at her with those chocolate brown eyes of his. They'd been swimming with promises. Not of forever—thank God—but at least of tonight. It really was a shame she wasn't in the market for an all-nighter.

"So…did you make a wish?" he asked.

He knew she had by the way she bit her lower lip and blushed again. That made three, if his count was on.

"What did you wish for?" he wanted to know.

He saw indecision flicker across her face as she debated on whether or not to share her wish with him. He knew immediately that whatever she'd wished, he had the power to give it to her.

"I wished for…a hot kiss." She said it almost challengingly, as if she were daring him to make fun of her. _That _wasn't going to happen. He was a fan of hot kisses himself.

"Well, to each his own, I guess," he said with mock disappointment, as he slid out of the booth. She expected him to join her, but instead, he began to walk away.

"Wait!" she said, and he immediately turned around. "Where are you going?" she asked.

He frowned. "To get you a Hot Kiss."

"To ge—"

He gave her a teasing grin. "Irish whiskey, crème de menthe—"

"Irish whiskey? I—not _that_ kind of a hot kiss!" she clarified, finally understanding.

"Oooh," he said, as if he'd just realized what she was saying. "OK."

Once again, he returned to his side of the booth, disappointing her. For God's sake. He'd picked her up, hadn't he? And she was practically begging him to kiss her! What was wrong with him? There was no way she could have misread his signals. She was in the middle of analyzing their entire conversation when he interrupted her thoughts.

"So…what are you going to do about making your birthday wish come true?" he asked.

Penelope had no idea where her boldness came from, but she was grateful for it. Without missing a beat, she stood and walked over to his side of the booth. Instead of sitting beside him, she placed one knee next to his thigh, and then swung her other leg over his lap so she was straddling him. The booth was large enough so her back wasn't even touching the table.

She'd clearly taken him by surprise, but when his hands clamped around her waist, it was clear he wasn't disappointed. She lifted her hands to grip the back of his seat and looked down at him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Is there even such a drink as a Hot Kiss?" she asked in amusement.

"Sure there is," he answered, and then grinned. "They named it after me."

"Prove it," she dared him.

His gaze fell to her plump, pink lips, lifted to her eyes, and then fell to her lips again. His hands lifted to cup the back of her neck, his fingers lacing together. His thumbs caressed the soft skin just behind her earlobes. She shivered from his mere touch and he growled his eyes still on her lips as he lifted his face to hers.

Penelope knew they had a spark, had since the moment they'd met. And if it had been up to her, his tongue would be assaulting hers right now.

Clearly he had other ideas.

He kissed each corner of her mouth tenderly; and when her mouth opened with a whimper, his tongue drew a path around her lips. When any other man would have gone for it, Derek Morgan ran his tongue back and forth over her bottom lip again and again, taunting her. It wasn't until she'd dropped her hands from the back of his seat and clamped them on his cheeks, thrusting her own tongue forth that she got to taste him.

He'd been slouching slightly in the booth to accommodate her, but as soon as her tongue met his, he straightened so he could angle his face above hers. My _God,_ she tasted good—her flavor wasn't marred by liquor. And he had to practically wrestle her tongue to the floor of her mouth to dominate the kiss—he liked _that_. When he finally had control, he lightly licked the roof of her mouth as he lowered his hand. As one thumb continued stroking the flesh behind her ear, the other ran a light trail back and forth across her collarbone. She responded to everything he did—shivering beneath his stroking thumbs, whimpering as his tongue gently explored her mouth.

She trembled again, then gripped both of his wrists and lowered them to the area just above her knees before wrapping her arms eagerly around his neck. His hands moved upwards, stopping to squeeze a handful of thigh. He'd always loved a woman with meat on her bones. They continued their ascent until he was cupping her bare ass, pulling her lower body closer to his obvious erection. They travelled higher still, searching. "Holy fuck," he rasped, breaking the kiss. "You're not wearing panties."

She shook her head, grinning saucily. "I'm not big on panties," she admitted.

"Come home with me," he begged.

She shook her head. "No," she panted.

With the tip of his index finger, he traced a path around her waist and between her legs until he heard her sharp intake of breath. "Let me take care of that."

Penelope hissed as he lightly pinched the swollen core between her legs.

"No," she somehow managed to croak out, and then grinned. "You couldn't handle me."

Derek grinned smugly. "Trust me, sweetness. I could hold my own."

Her eyes danced. "Then you _definitely_ don't need me," she said, pushing his hand away from her waist. She cleared her throat before straightening, and then moved so she was standing beside the booth. "I have to go," she said as she ran her hands over her skirt. "Thank you…for an _amazingly_ hot kiss."

"Give me your number."

She shook her head.

"Please," he begged.

"I have to go," she repeated, then turned to leave.

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><p>"Where's Taylor?" Penelope asked looking around as she approached the table her friends were occupying.<p>

"Restroom," Ashley said. "Where have _you_ been?"

Penelope cleared her throat. "Dancing," she lied.

"With your tongue?" her friend Carissa chimed in. "Yeah, we saw you."

"How…? Taylor!" Penelope hissed.

Both girls grinned. "You bringing him home?"

"No, I am not bringing him home!" Penelope said. "I'm too old for that. I'm looking for something serious."

"I saw some _serious_ kissing," Carissa said dryly, grinning when Penelope glared at her.

"You guys ready?" Taylor asked as he walked up to Penelope's side.

"Yes," she said. The sooner she got out of here, the better. She was still a bit dazed from that kiss. Practically intoxicated. It was amazing her number _hadn't _slipped out. Her gaze involuntarily shifted to the back booth—and he was gone.

Taylor grinned at her, nudging her with his shoulder. "Hussey."

Penelope's cheeks turned red.

"However, if you'd exchanged numbers—"

"We didn't," she cut in sharply.

Taylor grinned shamelessly. "That's not _exactly_ true," he said, holding a matchbook with the club's logo up in front of his friend.

Penelope snagged it and flipped it open, then gasped. "You got his number?"

"Even better? I gave him _yours_," Taylor announced.


End file.
